


The Honey Trap

by abstractconcept



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chan, Jealousy, M/M, Rimming, Teacher-Student Relationship, dirtybadwrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 21:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractconcept/pseuds/abstractconcept
Summary: Slytherins are plotting, Gryffindors are losing their tempers, and Harry's caught in the middle. Some things never change.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Harry/Scorpius, Scorpius/other  
> Warnings: Chan (Scorpius is 15), jealousy, teacher/student, rimming.   
> Disclaimer: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
> Author’s Notes: This story would not have been possible if not for the wonderful (and much appreciated) support of hpstrangelove.  
> Betas: ciaarana and littleroo27

“Five points to Slytherin,” Harry said with a warm smile.  
  
“Thank you, Professor,” Scorpius purred.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Scorpius could see Albus Severus glowering at his father. It warmed Scorpius’ black little heart to see, it really did.   
  
The Potters could have been bookends if not for their ages and dispositions. Professor Potter was known to be pleasant and convivial, while Albus Severus was a firework that went off at the least little thing.  
  
They were still lovely to look at, though. Professor Potter had that wonderful smile that could melt your boots off, whereas Albus Severus nearly radiated furious, rather sexy energy.  
  
It was such a joy to attend Defence classes in their illustrious company.  
  
After class, Albus Severus made a beeline to confront his father as Scorpius slowly gathered up his books and put an Ignorable Invocation on himself and sidled closer to the Professor’s desk.  
  
“Why do you have to be so nice to them?” Albus Severus growled as the classroom emptied.  
  
“It’s good to be nice to everyone, if possible,” the Professor replied in an offhand sort of voice.  
  
“But Dad, you’re too nice,” Al noted through gritted teeth. “All the Gryffindors say so. They laugh at me, did you know?”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that, Al,” the professor said in a clipped voice.   
  
“Don’t you _care?”_  
  
Professor Potter put his papers aside and looked at Albus Severus, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I care very much about you,” he said. “But not at all about what people think or say. Believe it or not, this will continue through your whole life. It’s better to learn to deal with it while you’re still young. Don’t mind what other people think, Al.”  
  
“Oh, so you’re only being nice to the Slytherins to improve my character?” Albus Severus scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
The professor looked at him for a long moment. “I’m nice to them because I’ve learnt not to judge people by their Houses, their appearances, or their affiliations,” he said quietly. “And at fifteen, I should think you’d be old enough to understand that.”  
  
Albus Severus looked unhappy . “Everyone knows Slytherins are no good,” he said in a loud voice. “They hardly did anything in the battle of Hogwarts. You even said so yourself.”  
  
Professor Potter sighed heavily, as if they’d had this argument many times before. “And I also told you that if it wasn’t for the sacrifices of a certain Slytherin—the man you were named after, I might add—we wouldn’t be alive today. I know what your brother’s told you and the things your housemates say. But it isn’t all true, Al. Don’t tar them all with the same brush.”  
  
Then the man turned, holding up a hand to forestall Al’s next argument. “Did you need something, Scorpius?”  
  
Scorpius straightened. So the man had seen through his little charm, had he? Well, he was powerful enough. And power was dead sexy. Scorpius blushed and stared at his feet as Albus Severus glared at him and stomped out of the room, still muttering under his breath.   
  
“Er, sorry, Professor,” Scorpius said. “I, um, was just curious about how you’d answer.”  
  
Professor Potter smiled thinly. “Don’t take it personally; my son dislikes all Slytherins. I’m hoping he’ll grow out of it.”  
  
Scorpius shrugged. “I don’t mind. We have few enough champions. I really appreciate your efforts,” he added with a bashful smile. To his elation, the good professor turned just a bit pink.   
  
“Professor Snape was a good man, and a Slytherin,” he said. “And your father—your father wasn’t all bad, either,” he hurried to add.  
  
“He thinks well of you, as well,” Scorpius told the man.  
  
“He does?”  
  
“I think so,” Scorpius said. “He said he was glad you killed You-Know-Who, anyway. He said it was a good job. High praise, from _my_ father,” he added.   
  
The look in Professor Potter’s eyes turned softer, gentler. “Your grandfather wasn’t an easy man to please, either,” he noted.  
  
Scorpius nearly protested that his father wasn’t difficult to please—he was actually a very patient and caring parent—but thought twice. If Professor Potter thought Scorpius had been emotionally neglected, that might make things easier. Instead he just nodded. “Well—you know. He’s a very busy man.”   
  
“I understand.”  
  
“Busier since Mother left. He really throws himself into his work,” Scorpius added slyly. “Sometimes I get rather lonely.”  
  
“Well. Ah. You know . . . if I can ever lend an ear,” Professor Potter suggested.  
  
Scorpius nodded. “That’s very kind of you.”  
  
“I wish you and Albus Severus could be friends,” the professor sighed. “You’ve so much in common. He’s just a bit stroppy right now.”  
  
It was a big part of the reason Albus Severus was acting out, Scorpius suspected. His parents had split up just before the start of the term, and he wasn’t dealing well. Shrugging, Scorpius said, “I’d be happy to show willing.”  
  
Harry smiled. “You’re a good lad.”  
  
Scorpius returned the smile. _And I’ll show you how good I can be._  
  
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”  
  
“Well, sir, I still can’t manage a Patronus. I was wondering if you might consider tutoring me outside of class?” he looked hopefully up at the man.  
  
The professor rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know . . .”  
  
Scorpius’ shoulders sagged. “It’s all right. I didn’t think you’d understand. You probably got it first try, when you were learning. Everyone says you were one of the youngest people ever to manage it,” he added, trying not to sound too devious.  
  
“Yes, but I had a lot of help from—” the professor began, but then cut off, his eyes suddenly focussed on the distant past. After a moment he sighed. “Of course I’ll help you. I have Saturday afternoons free,” he added.   
  
Scorpius smiled sunnily. “Oh, _thank you,_ Professor,” he said, and hurried off to his next class.  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
Back in the hallway, Scorpius was blindsided. He was shoved up against a wall, one of Albus Severus’ hands clenched around his wrist. Potter’s wand poked him in the chest. Scorpius glanced around, but the hallway was empty. He forced a smile. “Was there something you wanted?” he asked sweetly.  
  
“I know what you’re up to,” Albus Severus snarled. “ _Stop flirting_ with my _father_ , you freak!”  
  
“Oh, is _that_ all you wanted?” Scorpius felt his lip twist up in a sneer; he wished it wouldn’t do that. It turned his handsome face into something ugly, but then Albus Severus often brought out his anger, his pettiness, all the nasty little insecurities Scorpius hated people to see.  
  
They glowered at each other with as much heat as they could muster; the air between them practically crackled.  
  
After a moment there was a noise from somewhere far off, and Scorpius wrenched his wrist free. “We are going to be late for class,” he hissed. It took real courage to turn his back on Potter and walk away, but he did so with unhurried steps.   
  
He could hear Potter breathing heavily, still in the mood for a fight. “Just you remember what I said,” he spat.  
  
“I’m unlikely to forget,” Scorpius drawled, nonchalant. He shot Potter one last cool look before rounding the corner. “And I’m unlikely to care, as well.”  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
“Ouch.” Scorpius sat on the floor, blinking, a bit dazed. He was shivering a little; perhaps this hadn’t been such a bright idea.  
  
The professor shut the cabinet door. The boggart turned into a dementor whenever it got near the professor, so it was ideal for practicing on, but the whole thing was more difficult than Scorpius had anticipated. “Need a hand up?” the professor asked kindly.  
  
Scorpius accepted with alacrity, holding onto Professor Potter’s hand just a moment or two longer than necessary. “Thank you, sir.”  
  
“The first few times can be very difficult, I know. Chocolate?”  
  
Scorpius gave the professor a shy smile. “No one’s ever bought me chocolate before,” he lied. Rather than snapping off a piece, he put one end of the bar in his mouth, nibbling at the silken decadence. The professor hadn’t skimped; it was Honeydukes’ finest dark chocolate, and Scorpius didn’t even have to fake a little moan of pleasure as bittersweet splendour melted on his tongue.  
  
“Plenty more where that came from,” the professor said, though he looked a little wary, scooting away.  
  
Scorpius swept his upper lip with the tip of his tongue, still feeling . . . hungry. “Thank you very much, sir. It’s so—sweet.”  
  
Again, Professor Potter’s face turned slightly pink, and he smiled crookedly. “Um. Well. Um. You’re welcome.”  
  
Scorpius couldn’t come close to making a Patronus, but he was still making progress.   
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
_The party._ Everyone had been talking about it non-stop for about the past month. It wasn’t a school-sanctioned party; it was one of those parties that you didn’t let the faculty know about. And it was being held in Ravenclaw tower—neutral ground, so both Gryffindors and Slytherins could attend.  
  
Scorpius looked at himself critically in the mirror. He’d left his hair a bit tousled; the girls, especially, tended to like it that way, looking as if he’d just stepped off his broom. He was wearing an emerald shirt under his robes, to match his eyes. He had his mother’s eyes, but mostly looked like his father. Scorpius turned and glanced at himself from the corner of his eye. Not bad. He had a good profile; a fine nose, nice cheekbones. He looked . . . he looked expensive.   
  
Frowning, he undid the top button on his shirt and mussed his hair a little more. Yes, that was better. A little more dashing, a little more devil-may-care. He didn’t want to look expensive. Not too expensive. When you looked too rich, people thought you were stiff and snooty, and then they acted stiff and snooty in turn. What he wanted to look was—was— _approachable_. To _some_ people, anyway.  
  
He and Blakely Davis walked up to the party together. Having a friend like Blakely—particularly a discreet friend—could be a really good thing sometimes. And it wasn’t as if Scorpius had anyone to go with. He _could_ have got a date, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Anyway, it wasn’t as though he could drag Professor Potter to a secret party, where there might be drugs or potions or charms or _anything._  
  
Professor Potter did not strike Scorpius as someone who would look the other way while that sort of thing went on. And while that was admirable and sort of sweet, he’d be really out of place with the kids in Scorpius’ year. Plus, there was the whole no faculty rule.   
  
Once they got to the party, Scorpius and Blakely stood around with some other Slytherins and discussed the merits of spiking the punch before they decided that was too Gryffindor. Instead, later they might try poisoning it and see what happened.  
  
Finally people began to mingle and the little knot of Slytherins dissolved. Scorpius found a window seat and sat down with a cup of punch to people-watch. And one of the first people he happened to set eyes on was Albus Severus Potter. Who had a _date._ With _Levina Zabini._  
  
Scorpius stared. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help himself. What would Albus Severus being doing with—with a _Slytherin?_ And with Levina, no less, who was, without a doubt, the knock-out, stone-cold killer of their year, the girl every bloke would chop off his right arm for!   
  
Albus Severus didn’t seem to notice or care that Scorpius was gawping at them. He and Levina seemed _really_ intimate, curled up on an azure loveseat together and practically cooing.   
  
Cooing was not, heretofore, something Scorpius would have associated with Albus Severus.   
  
He stared at them a while longer, feeling something burn inside. Levina was gorgeous. She had flashing eyes and high cheekbones and legs that went practically up to her neck. And she’d chosen _Albus Severus Potter_ as her date. When she could have any bloke in the _school._  
  
Scorpius felt his stomach tighten in undeniable jealousy. _Levina Zabini._ It just _wasn’t fair._  
  
As Albus Severus leaned forward, Levina’s lovely, exotic eyes drifted shut, and Scorpius slammed his cup down on a side table, got up and left as quickly and quietly as he could, tasting bile in the back of his throat. Albus Severus—and _Levina!_ How _dare_ he? How _dare_ she?  
  
But when Scorpius found himself in the corridor, he wasn’t sure where to go from there. The only thing he was certain about was that he didn’t want to go down to his dorm, and he didn’t want to go back to the party. So he just sort of wandered around—well, stomped, really, trying to work off his anger and excess energy.  
  
It wasn’t until he heard his name being called that Scorpius came back to himself and realized that—unconsciously—he might have known exactly where he was going. “Scorpius?” the voice said again.  
  
He turned and gave the man a practiced smile. “Hello, Professor.”  
  
“Oh. It _is_ you,” Professor Potter said. Then he smiled a funny sort of smile, his eyes hazy, as if they were watching things that happened years ago. “For a moment, you really were acting like a Slytherin. I can hardly count the number of times I saw Sn—Professor Snape stomping about like that; he was always a big one for drama.”  
  
Scorpius’ smile turned sheepish. “That bad, huh?”  
  
“Bad? I wouldn’t call it bad, exactly. It’s not really destructive to do a bit of stomping, and it isn’t as though you’re disturbing anyone. You can’t hear much through stone,” the professor added thoughtfully.  
  
“Then how did _you_ hear me?”  
  
Professor Potter made a face. “I was grading papers.” After hesitating for a long moment, the professor gestured to his open door. “Want to come in for a few minutes and a cuppa? I don’t mind a short break.”  
  
“Sure!” Scorpius caught himself—he didn’t want to sound too immature. That could ruin everything. Swallowing, he added, “I mean, I’d like that very much. Thank you, sir.”  
  
Harry smiled as if he understood, and Scorpius followed him into his rooms. It was cluttered and sort of messy, but in a cheerful way. There were a lot of bright colours and even some Quidditch posters on the walls. Scorpius wondered if Albus Severus visited often.   
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked as he poured the tea.  
  
“About Albus Severus?” Scorpius asked in surprise, before he could stop himself.   
  
The professor smiled again. “Well, about—whatever’s bothering you,” he said.  
  
“Oh. Oh. It’s just that—I wondered—” Scorpius gestured at the room. “I mean—I wondered if he came here very often, or if he came here at all.”  
  
This seemed like the wrong thing to say. Professor Potter frowned at his cup of tea. “Not very often,” he admitted.   
  
“He doesn’t like it,” Scorpius guessed. “He seemed very angry about that—you moving in, I mean.”  
  
Harry gave him a small, weak, not-very-happy sort of smile. “No, he wasn’t pleased with the idea,” Harry agreed. “I think he kept hoping his mother and I would get back together. But then Ginny remarried, and it was easier to teach when I was actually living here, so it seemed like the best plan. I keep hoping he’ll come round. In more ways than one,” he added with a wistful sigh.  
  
“He will,” said Scorpius confidently. Then he smiled rather bitterly at an afterthought and added, “He’s already coming around to the idea that not all Slytherins are bad.” _Or maybe he just likes them that way,_ a dry little voice in his head pointed out.  
  
“Oh?” Professor Potter said, sitting up straight. “Are you—?”  
  
“Not us,” Scorpius interrupted, fighting down a blush. “I mean, we’re not friends or anything,” he went on hurriedly. “He hates me as much as ever, I’m sure,” he added, trying not to feel glum about the whole situation. “A girl. He has a girlfriend.”  
  
“A girlfriend?” Harry echoed. “He’s really growing up, isn’t he?”  
  
“We aren’t ignorant kids,” Scorpius pointed out. “I doubt it’s really his first girlfriend. I’d be surprised if she were his first—anything,” he said. “We’re not children anymore, Professor.”  
  
The professor seemed to be mulling that over when he must have noticed the very mature smile Scorpius was giving him, because he suddenly sat up very straight. “Er. Will you look at the time? You really ought to be going, you know.”  
  
Scorpius allowed the man to walk him to the door. “Will I see you again?” he teased.  
  
“Yes,” the professor said, looking a little confused. “In class Monday, right?”  
  
Scorpius had to laugh. “Right. Well. It was nice talking with you.”  
  
“I apologize if I unloaded on you a bit,” said the professor, showing a glimpse of plain Harry Potter once more as his glasses slipped down his nose. “I didn’t mean to burden you.”  
  
Tilting his head to the side, Scorpius told him, “You needn’t worry about that. I can handle it. I’m very mature for my age,” he purred.   
  
The professor smiled nervously and pushed his glasses back up. They promptly slid down again. “Right. Well, then. Thank you for being such a good listener.”  
  
“Anytime, Professor,” Scorpius told him. The professor froze when Scorpius leaned in, smiling, but Scorpius merely reached up and gently pushed the glasses back up again, and the professor relaxed a little. “Anytime,” Scorpius whispered again.  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
_An inch,_ Scorpius thought, daring to stand ever closer. _Give me an inch and I will take a mile._ Professor Potter was still a bit suspicious of him—because he was a conniving, exceptionally charming Slytherin—but he wouldn’t be able to resist forever. Scorpius knew when he was getting too close, because Professor Potter would shift uncomfortably, even take a step away. But Scorpius was getting very good at finding that line—and walking it.   
  
One inch at a time.   
  
And with the professor at his back, Scorpius sagged just a little. He felt the man stiffen. “Creating a Patronus takes a lot out of you. I feel like I’m about to fall over,” he breathed, raising a hand to his forehead, as if to wipe away a bead of sweat.  
  
“Why don’t we stop for the day?” Professor Potter suggested.  
  
“If we could just take a minute; I’m feeling sort of shaky . . .” Scorpius said, then allowed his knees to wobble just a little.   
  
The professor’s arms went around him, like he knew they would. “Here; the couch,” Professor Potter said, gently steering Scorpius over.  
  
Scorpius flopped back, one hand dramatically flung over his eyes. “I _am_ sorry for all the trouble,” he whimpered.  
  
Harry Potter fluttered over him. Of course, none of his own children were this delicate—not that Scorpius was either, really—so the man obviously didn’t know what to do. “Would you like a damp cloth to put over your eyes?” he asked, his voice anxious.  
  
“I’d like that very much, please.”  
  
Scorpius allowed the man to conjure one and gently caress his rather warm face with the cool cloth. “That feels _very nice,_ ” he murmured.  
  
Professor Potter was staring down at him with a funny look in his eyes. “I’m glad,” he whispered, and brushed Scorpius’ fringe out of his face with his fingertips.  
  
Scorpius smiled.   
  
_Another inch._  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
“Leaving gifts for the professor?” Albus Severus sneered.   
  
Pausing, Scorpius gave him a dangerous smile. “Yes, that’s right,” he replied. He set the apple on Professor Potter’s desk, where it perched provocatively, gleaming red, its stem tilted at a jaunty angle like a vixen in a French beret.   
  
“Is that for me? Thank you, Scorpius,” the professor said, sounding genuinely surprised and pleased.  
  
Scorpius’ smile flared briefly as he traced a fingertip over the smooth red skin of the apple. “It’s the juiciest, sweetest kind,” he murmured. “You’ll just salivate for it once you’ve tried a bite,” he added in a husky voice.   
  
“Isn’t that nice?” the professor responded absently as he banished the notes on the chalkboard. “I have to get ready for my next class right now though, if you’ll excuse me.”  
  
“Certainly,” Scorpius said. “Tomorrow, sir?” He saw Albus Severus’ eyes narrow. He saw the fury in those blazing eyes, but it was impotent fury.  
  
“Of course!” Harry answered. “I’ll see you in my chambers at the regular time.”  
  
Scorpius left, Albus Severus hot on his heels. “Well. Aren’t we the _teacher’s pet_?” Albus Severus hissed. Scorpius winced at the susurration in his ear, then nodded curtly to the door, where Levina Zabini was lounging, looking dazzling as always.  
  
“That depends,” Scorpius answered coldly. “Are you somebody’s ‘pet’?”  
  
Albus Severus didn’t answer, but then Scorpius didn’t really expect him to.  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
Professor Potter’s hand was cold on the back of his neck. Scorpius frowned. “What happened?”  
  
“I think you passed out,” the professor told him gently. “It’s my fault. We should have stopped hours ago.”  
  
Scorpius shook his head, white-blond fringe dancing in front of his eyes. “No, it’s my fault. I should have known my limits.” He smiled crookedly. “I usually have better stamina,” he insisted. “I could go all night, really.”  
  
The professor gave him a shrewd glance. “I think perhaps we’d better call it a night.”  
  
His thumb was absently stroking the nape of Scorpius’ neck, skimming over the downy hair. Scorpius curled closer to the warmth of the man’s body. “Just another five minutes?” he pleaded.   
  
“You’re not hurt?”  
  
“No. Just very . . . content here,” Scorpius sighed.   
  
The professor moved his hand, but hesitated to take it away. Fingertips brushed Scorpius’ cheek and his eyes fluttered closed. When nothing more happened, he slowly opened them again. “Please?” he murmured.  
  
Harry was staring at him, eyes wide. “Please what?” he croaked.  
  
Scorpius reached up, curled an arm around the man’s neck and pulled him down  
  
Professor Potter’s lips were warmer, softer than Scorpius expected. Warm and parting and—Scorpius shivered in the man’s arms, feeling them draw tighter, then inexplicably push him away.  
  
The professor broke the kiss. “Back to your dorm, now,” he said shakily.   
  
Scorpius smiled just a little. “For now,” he answered.  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
The kiss should have made things easier. Scorpius had fancied his lips as a gateway drug, but the professor seemed to be avoiding him. It left him feeling strangely bereft. It wasn’t as though he was in love with the man, but he was honestly very fond of him. In some odd way, he even thought of Harry Potter as something like a friend, someone who was there when Scorpius needed someone. It had been a long time since Scorpius had someone quite like that around.   
  
But he wasn’t giving up. Potters were stubborn men; he knew that. But Malfoys were cunning; only time would tell which trait would win out.   
  
After a bad day in which he caught Albus Severus making out with Levina in an alcove (why did everyone have someone except Scorpius?) he decided to pay the professor a visit.   
  
Strangely, he didn’t even have any ulterior motives—not really. It just seemed like since Albus Severus was the root of both their problems, it might be companionable to spend some time with Har—with Professor Potter. Just to talk.  
  
Only someone else was already there.   
  
Classes had ended for the day and it was getting a bit late, and Scorpius hadn’t expected to run into anyone there. He was sure it’d be just the professor, planning lessons. Instead he walked straight into an argument.  
  
“I don’t see why you couldn’t have informed me,” Harry was saying, sounding reasonable, if a little frazzled.   
  
Ducking his head around the door, Scorpius could see Albus Severus, lips drawn back in a snarl. “Maybe I didn’t tell you because it was none of your business. Did you ever consider that?”  
  
“You are my son. You _are_ my business.”  
  
“Funny how it doesn’t work the other way round.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean you didn’t discuss things with me. You didn’t give me and James and Lily a head’s up until the whole thing was practically done. So my life is an open book, but yours is none of my business?”  
  
The professor suddenly slumped in his seat, dragging his hands through his hair. “Your mother and I discussed it until we realized that discussion wasn’t getting us anywhere. Telling you—discussing it with you wouldn’t have changed things. And neither of us wanted to burden you. We certainly didn’t want you to feel as though if you’d said the right thing we would have worked it out. We couldn’t have worked it out, Al. We wanted to. We tried. It wasn’t a matter of your opinion being unimportant. It was a matter of trying to minimize the feelings of guilt and responsibility you might otherwise feel.”  
  
Albus Severus shook his head, his expression furious. “You ruin everything. You ruin everything.”  
  
“The divorce was a mutual decision.”  
  
“I’m not talking about the divorce!” Albus Severus screamed. “I’m talking about _everything!_ I’m talking about _my life!_ You’re always butting in and sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and—and messing everything up!”  
  
“You’re being childish, thoughtless, and blowing things out of proportion. I do understand how you feel; I did the same thing at your age. But let me tell you something I wish someone had told me; if you feel angry, you need to take a walk and let it loose in private. Because the things you say in anger are the things you can never take back.”  
  
“You and your fucking omniscience! You’re just perfect, aren’t you, now that you have _experience_ and the _wisdom of your years._ What a bloody bunch of bollocks. You just reach into my life and fuck it about and then you have the balls to _lecture me_ about it!”  
  
“Albus Severus Potter, I am not the cause of your problems! And I am getting just a little bit tired of being blamed for everything, anytime you get a hangnail on up to your wildly fluctuating emotions! And the only reason you’re seeing this girl—who, I understand, has quite the reputation—is to make me angry!”  
  
“That’s all you know!” Albus Severus responded with heat. “That’s all you know! She’s bloody gorgeous! She’s smart and she’s sexy and she’s even a _Slytherin;_ I thought you _wanted_ me to get all touchy-feely with the Slytherins!”  
  
Harry’s eyes looked like flint. “Not _that_ touchy-feely. Not at fifteen,” he said evenly. “You are far too young to understand the long-term consequences of—”  
  
“I AM NOT TOO YOUNG! When you were my age, you were off on your own, totally unsupervised, killing the Dark Lord and doing whatever you pleased!”  
  
“Killing Voldemort would not fall under ‘doing whatever I pleased,’” Harry began, but Al cut him off.  
  
“You made your own decisions, and I can too! And Levina and I are going to get married! What do you think of _that,_ eh?”  
  
Harry looked shocked. “What an _incredibly_ stupid thing to do just to spite your father!” he snapped.   
  
“Oh, you just _think_ it’s all about you,” Al spat. “But it’s not. And if you’re sorry, you should be. I can make you _both_ sorry.”  
  
“Yes, I should very well think your mother would be deeply upset at such an impetuous move,” Harry agreed sourly. “Though if you think it’ll bring us back together, think again.”  
  
Albus Severus shook his head hard. “You don’t understand,” he ground out. “You don’t understand and you don’t even care.”  
  
Harry Potter abruptly stood up and slammed his hands on his desk. “And _that_ is an accusation I am all too sick of hearing! I have done nothing _but_ care for you since the day you were born! You’re _spoilt,_ is your problem,” he added with bitter anger. “By Merlin, you’ve turned out with a greater sense of entitlement than Scorpius Malfoy, and if I ever thought I’d see my son—”  
  
“Oh, shut up about him! Just shut up about him! What do you know about him, anyway? Just because he kisses arse in class? Just because he follows you around and flutters his eyes at you? He’s a _whore,_ and everyone knows it but you. You think he gives a shit about you? He just wants into your pants—probably so he can bring a suit against you or tell his daddy; that’s his style.”  
  
Harry bowed his head. “I think that’s enough for tonight. Go back to your dorm.”  
  
Albus Severus sneered. “ _Make me_.”  
  
Scorpius didn’t even see the professor’s wand move; perhaps it hadn’t. It might have been wandless magic. All Scorpius saw was that Albus Severus reeled back as if he’d been struck. He raised one shaking hand to his face.   
  
“Do not push me, Al,” Harry said in a deceptively quiet voice. “I understand that you’re at an age where you need to push things. You need to know the limits. Well, you found one. That’s my limit. I love you, but right now I don’t like your behaviour very much at all. You go on up to bed and give it some thought and we’ll talk tomorrow when we’ve calmed down. And I’ll expect you to show me a great deal more respect than you’ve done tonight,” he added grimly.  
  
Albus Severus’ cheek was red. In fact, his whole face was beginning to turn red. “I’m going to marry her. I’ll show you all. You can’t stop _that_ ,” he growled, then turned and tore out of the room, so fast he didn’t even notice Scorpius standing by the door.  
  
Scorpius stood, stunned, for several moments before the professor saw him. “Did you—were you here the whole time?” he asked.  
  
Nodding, Scorpius entered, his feet set on automatic forward. He felt oddly blank. Albus Severus was going to marry Levina Zabini. Just like that. They’d probably been planning it for weeks. He felt—he felt—  
  
“Are you all right? I’m so sorry you overheard. That must have been frightening. I rarely yell like that. I’m so sorry,” Harry repeated, coming over to take Scorpius’ shoulders. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I shouldn’t have hexed him. That must have been upsetting. I know you have a delicate constitution.” The professor was stroking Scorpius’ hair, but Scorpius barely felt it. “Do you feel okay? Can I get you something?”  
  
Scorpius was fine. Numb, but fine. Of course he was. Scorpius was going to be just fine. Always.   
  
“Do you feel sick? Do you feel . . .?”  
  
Scorpius looked up at the professor, whose large green eyes brimmed with worry. Scorpius was fine. Scorpius would be just fine. Scorpius was . . .  
  
 _Devastated._  
  
It must have shown on his face, because Professor Potter’s tender concern morphed into alarm. “It’s going to be okay. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I’m sorry I upset you. I’m sorry.” He petted Scorpius’ face, repetitive, gentle stroking as if Scorpius were a puppy. It felt strangely good, strangely comforting.  
  
“Kiss me,” Scorpius demanded, brows knitting.  
  
Professor Potter hesitated. “I . . .”  
  
Scorpius reached up, trembling fingers searching out the man’s lips. “Kiss me,” he begged.   
  
Harry kissed him.  
  
And paused to gasp for breath, looking into Scorpius’ eyes.  
  
And kissed him again.   
  
And again, deeper, harder, longer.  
  
Each kiss was like a whole different state of being. The first kiss was so sweet, so tentative and soft, Harry Potter’s hands cupping his face, warm and strong, as if to reassure himself there were no tears there.  
  
The next kiss was different. There was a moment of uncertainty, and then the plunge, the kiss that wasn’t about Scorpius anymore—not so much. It was a kiss that was all about kissing. There was no one _doing_ the kissing; it was just lips and hands soft, shuddery breaths mixing together. And no one had to be controlling it, and it didn’t have to be anyone’s fault. It was just a kiss that could have happened to anybody. It was the sort of kiss that swept over you and pulled you into its arms and it was right that way; it was perfect.  
  
And then there was Harry’s kiss. Harry Potter’s kiss, the sort of kiss that hadn’t been kissed in a long time, and it was sort of desperate by now and it consumed Scorpius as Harry pushed him back against the desk and ran hungry hands up and down his body. It was a thread-thin kiss that was hot and long and groping for more, and when that thread snapped it wouldn’t be a kiss, it would be _bang_ down on the desk and _shiff_ the sound of clothes coming off and _oh,_ yes, it would be _oh,_ one soft vowel mouthed against the salty skin of the professor’s throat.   
  
There were a lot of things Scorpius wanted to say as he was undressed, laid back and bare against the desk, but _oh_ pretty much covered all of them.   
  
It got awkward again for a moment there, when Scorpius was naked and recumbent atop a pile of ungraded papers. Scorpius felt funny—oddly vulnerable, and it had nothing to do with his nudity. He thought it had something to do with the way Harry Potter stared at him, hungry and reluctant at once, and Scorpius knew it could go either way.   
  
So he gave the man his most needy look, a kittenish moue, an uncertain shift of his hips, and reached out, just a little, just one hand.  
  
And Harry took it. The professor took it and covered it with his own, and bent to kiss it, just as if Scorpius were some kind of princess. It was the craziest thing, and it sent a hot blush roaring across Scorpius’ naked body. He hadn’t blushed like that in years, not without meaning to. And then Harry kissed his way up Scorpius’ arm, his eyes tightly closed in a way that made a peculiar lump in Scorpius’ throat. Harry kissed his way all the way up, all the way to the side of Scorpius’ neck, burying his face in the feathery hair behind Scorpius’ ear.   
  
They stayed that way for several moments, still and silent, before Harry kissed him again, and again. And again, the kisses took on lives of their own.  
  
The kisses spread over Scorpius’ face, softly crossing the bridge of his nose.   
  
God, the man was so _sweet_. He was so sweet it almost burned Scorpius’ tongue, the way a too-sugary treat could be just too much. But it _wasn’t_ too much. No one had _ever_ touched Scorpius like this.   
  
And it felt good. It felt absolutely amazing.  
  
Harry kissed every inch of skin he could find, murmuring little incoherent reassurances against Scorpius’ overheated flesh. He ran his tongue all up and down Scorpius’ torso, flickering here and there over a rib or the quickly-hardening nub of a nipple.   
  
Then he bit down softly, and then again, harder, nipping and sucking until Scorpius squealed, bucking up, head falling back, his own soft hair caressing his shoulders.   
  
“Please,” he muttered. He reached out to card his fingers through the professor’s thick black hair, his breath quickening as Harry bent his head.  
  
Scorpius’ legs instinctively parted as Harry licked him. Scorpius’ heels bumped up against the sides of Harry’s desk. His elbows were growing sore from resting on them for so long, but he daren’t complain. Scoprius bit his lip hard as he felt the soft breath waft against his belly as Harry began took his cock into his mouth, down his throat.  
  
Scorpius was making needy noises but Harry was oblivious, methodically swiping his tongue over the underside of Scorpius’ shaft and pausing to swallow him. And when the professor gave a sudden, impish flick beneath the head of Scorpius’ penis, Scorpius yelped and nearly fell off the desk.  
  
“All right there?” Harry asked, straightening his skewed glasses. His face was flushed and his eyes burned.   
  
“More,” Scorpius demanded, but when Harry knelt again, Scorpius held up a hand to forestall him. “No,” he grunted. “Come up here. Please. All the way.”  
  
Harry got to his feet, but his lips were set in an uncertain line. “We really shouldn’t—” he began, but Scorpius rolled over onto his stomach and the man stopped talking very abruptly.  
  
“Lubricant?” Scorpius croaked, shifting to lift his arse into the air invitingly. Papers clung to his sweaty thighs and Harry peeled them off with great concentration, letting them fall to the floor like autumn leaves, leaving Scorpius fully nude once more.  
  
Harry ran a marvelling hand up the inside of Scorpius’ thigh, raising goosebumps. Then both hands were caressing him, gently spreading his arse cheeks. Being exposed to the cool air made Scorpius feel delightfully on display, like a peeled citrus fruit prominent in a famous painting.   
  
And then instead of cool air, there was wet warmth.  
  
Scorpius moaned shakily, his head bowing, eyes squeezing shut. This was beyond his dirtiest fantasies. He’d never expected a Gryffindor to be open to rimming. God, let alone rimming a student half his age!  
  
One of Harry’s hands curled over his flank like a serpent as Harry’s tongue delved into Scorpius’ body, sliding deep and sure into his arse.  
  
Scorpius’ hips began to twist, his back stretching as he tried to push himself back on Harry’s tongue. One of Harry’s hands rested lightly on the small of his back, tracing playful circles there. It felt lovely, if a little ticklish. Scorpius couldn’t remember anyone being so concentrated on _him_ during lovemaking before. It had never happened like this before; it had always been hard and fast and over practically before it had begun.  
  
Harry backed away, still planting little kisses here and there on Scorpius’ twitching body. “Still doing all right?” he asked softly.   
  
Scorpius looked over his shoulder and bit his lip, trying to keep from smiling. Harry’s face was still red and his glasses were more crooked than ever, but his hair was also a mess and his tie was undone. “Here,” Scorpius said with a gesture.  
  
Harry bent over obligingly and Scorpius stole the cockeyed glasses off his nose. “Why, thank you,” Harry said, surprise and amusement thick in his voice.   
  
Scorpius bit down gently on one of the temple tips of the glasses and asked around it, “Ready for more?” giving Harry an arch look.  
  
Harry chucked his chin, smiling a childlike smile at the glasses dangling from Scorpius’ pursed lips. “Yes. If you are.” Scorpius nodded, then flinched a little as the man mounted him. Cautious as Harry was, slow as he went, there was a stretch and burn that marked the difference between a fifteen year old boy and a full grown man.   
  
But it was a good sort of fire, and it only got better when Harry nudged deeper and deeper, working his way into Scorpius’ body with short thrusts.  
  
Scorpius’ hands crumpled someone’s school work as Harry began to rock, harder and harder, the professor emitting desperate little sounds of pleasure, as though it had been a very, very long time and he was difficulty keeping himself under control.  
  
Then Scorpius bucked back, in part to drive the man further into his channel, but in part just to see what it did.  
  
What it _did,_ apparently, was drive Harry Potter absolutely mad.  
  
All of a sudden there weren’t any more gentle rolls of the hips. Harry grabbed Scorpius, one hand in his _hair,_ for Merlin’s sake, and the other clutching his thigh. Harry _rocked_ Scorpius’ body; he plunged and slammed home, bent low over Scorpius’ back. It jarred Scorpius so much that Harry’s glasses dropped from his mouth and tumbled end over end to the floor.  
  
“ _Godfuckgod,_ ” Scorpius wailed. If Harry heard, he took no notice.   
  
But something must have reminded the man that he wasn’t alone, because his fingers danced down to curl around Scorpius’ prick, giving him a rough yet _fucking fantastic_ pull. “Talk dirty to me,” Scorpius begged, riding the edge of ache and ecstasy.  
  
Scorpius didn’t understand what the man said in response. All he knew was that it was _dead sexy_ and full of susurration and ended in “ _Scorpiussss_. . .” and with one more gentle/ungentle tug, Scorpius was coming, droplets of semen spattering on the desk.   
  
“What the fuck was that?” Scorpius gasped.   
  
“Parseltongue,” Harry replied, nipping the back of his neck. “I take it you like that?”  
  
“Yes, sir—oh, _yes, sir!_ ”  
  
Harry nuzzled the nape of Scorpius’ neck, his warm breath skimming down Scorpius’ spine. “I want to see you,” the man said hoarsely. “Please. I want to _see_ you.”  
  
As Harry helped the boy turn over onto his back, Scorpius found himself blushing again. This was yet another thing he was unaccustomed to—being asked to face his partner. And Harry looked so _serious,_ his green eyes very intense as they swept over Scorpius’ body.   
  
Harry’s fingers trickled down Scorpius’ torso like a waterfall. “D’you know, I expect you’re almost as experienced as I am?” the man said conversationally. He delicately traced a finger through the whitish curls surrounding Scorpius’ cock. “I’ve never been with a blond before,” he added, sounding mesmerized.   
  
If Scorpius could possibly blush harder, it would have to involve rearranging the laws of physics.   
  
Harry seemed utterly charmed by this. “So pink,” he said, smiling. “You really are adorable when you go all pink like that.”  
  
“Oh, hush,” Scorpius grunted.   
  
Harry stroked his fringe out of his eyes. “Well, at least I can settle any disputes of whether the carpet matches the curtains,” he teased.  
  
Scorpius buried his hot face against Harry’s shoulder, grateful when the man entered him again. “Be nice,” he whispered.  
  
“This isn’t nice?” Harry asked.  
  
It was. It was far nicer than he was used to, but Scorpius disliked being taunted. “Don’t mock me,” he begged.  
  
Harry took a slender shoulder and pushed Scorpius away long enough to see his face. “You think I’m mocking you? I didn’t mean—I was only trying to make you laugh,” he said softly. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”  
  
“Hmmph,” Scorpius replied, turning his face away.  
  
Harry licked the side of his neck. “Forgive me?”  
  
Scorpius fought to hide a smile. “Maybe.”  
  
Kissing Scorpius, Harry began to move again, hips rolling, building an unhurried rhythm like a ship at sea. Scorpius let himself float in Harry’s arms. Harry seemed to enjoy looking down at him, sweaty hand stroking Scorpius’ face, fingertips playing over glinting eyelashes.   
  
Scorpius tilted his chin, inviting a kiss.   
  
Harry’s tongue seemed to stutter in Scorpius’ mouth as the man came.  
  
Afterward, the professor collapsed into his chair, looking pensive. “We shouldn’t have . . .” he said with a sigh.  
  
Scorpius looked over, feeling alarm bells clanging in his chest. “We should’ve,” he insisted, kissing Harry’s cheek. He bent to pick up Harry’s glasses. There was a hairline crack through one of the lenses, Scorpius noted with some misgivings. He found his wand and tapped them. “ _Reparo_ ,” he said, and handed them to the professor with a hopeful look.  
  
Professor Potter smiled weakly and looked away.  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
“Davis said you didn’t come in until almost three Saturday morning,” Albus Severus growled.  
  
Scorpius looked up from his untouched bowl of porridge, blinking. “What?  
  
Green eyes narrowed dangerously. “Where were you?”  
  
“Where were _you_?” Scorpius shot back.  
  
Albus Severus’ ears pinked. “That’s none of your business!”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
“Tell me!”  
  
“Why were you talking to Blakely?”  
  
Albus Severus frowned. The Slytherins had all inched away from Scorpius, either wanting to give him privacy or afraid of incurring Albus Severus’ notorious wrath; Scorpius wasn’t certain which.   
  
“He was telling _everyone,_ ” Al said shortly.  
  
Blakely probably was. He was a firm believer in bragging rights, although he didn’t always seem to know when to apply them.  
  
Scorpius shrugged.  
  
Albus Severus grabbed him, balling his fist in Scorpius’ robes. “ _Where were you?_ ”   
  
The Slytherins stiffened; Scorpius could just picture them drawing their wands under the table, but they probably wouldn’t do anything unless Albus Severus did something first. And Scorpius didn’t think he would. Not in public, at any rate. The teachers were beginning to look their way, though, and Albus Severus backed away.  
  
Scorpius glared back, but he couldn’t work up the heat he’d had in prior confrontations. He looked to the head table, where Harry Potter was conspicuously absent. “I was doing something _important_ ,” he said with a sneer.  
  
Albus Severus sneered back. “Yeah, _right_ ,” he said, and stomped away.  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
Scorpius had difficulty concentrating on his textbook. He listened to the professor lecture and made the occasional note, but his eyes kept shifting back to the professor.  
  
Every so often, Harry would look back. His face would flush, his pupils would flare wide, and Scorpius would suck in a breath. It felt like having an Electrical Enchantment cast on him. Whenever Harry locked eyes with Scorpius, the professor stumbled over his words or had to halt for a moment altogether.  
  
Blakely gave Scorpius a nudge. “What is _with_ you?” he whispered.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Did someone set a chilling charm on the back of your neck? You keep gasping.”  
  
Harry had stopped again and was frowning at them.   
  
“What? No. It’s nothing,” Scorpius muttered.   
  
The professor went back to his lecture.  
  
Blakely scooted his chair closer. “Let me see your notes on the Imperius Curse,” he murmured. “I can’t read Potter’s handwriting.”  
  
“Mr. Davis, would you care to share your sweet nothings with the rest of the class, or are they for Mr. Malfoy alone?” the teacher demanded abruptly.  
  
The class laughed, Albus Severus more loudly than the others.  
  
“Er, what?”  
  
The professor looked coldly at Blakely. “Well, I could only _assume,_ since you’re cuddled up whispering in his ear . . .”  
  
Blakely scraped his chair back to its original position as quickly as he could.   
  
“Better,” Harry Potter grumbled. “Better.”  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
Scorpius dropped his books in the hall. “Damn.”  
  
Blakely stopped to help him scoop them up. Albus Severus hesitated as he walked past, but when Blakely looked at him and raised his eyebrows, he hurried away.  
  
“Are all Potters utterly mad?”  
  
 _Yes,_ thought Scorpius. _Irresistible, too._  
  
“You wouldn’t believe the rumours about you, by the way,” Blakely added.  
  
“What?” Scorpius asked reluctantly.  
  
“They say Albus Severus has a _thing_ for you.”  
  
As Scorpius digested the words, there was a sudden noise and the two boys jumped. Professor Potter was standing in the doorway, glaring at Blakely. “What are the two of you up two?” he demanded harshly.  
  
Scorpius was taken aback. “Nothing.”  
  
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Harry said, eyes afire. “Looks like a schoolboy tryst, to me.”   
  
Blakely, never one for false bravado, stepped behind Scorpius. “We were just talking,” he said in a nervous voice. “We’re _friends_.”  
  
The professor glowered. “Scorpius is m—you’re just trying to _take advantage_ ,” Harry snarled. “Stay away from him!”  
  
The man drew his wand. It was probably an unconscious act. Blakely stared at the tip. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“Get to class.”  
  
Blakely ran.  
  
Scorpius grinned. “Jealous?”  
  
Harry Potter paled. “No. And you should go now.”  
  
“I’ll see you later.”  
  
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”  
  
“I _will._ ”  
  
The professor shut his eyes. “Not outside of class,” he promised.  
  
Scorpius frowned.  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
Professor Potter looked tired.   
  
He’d looked tired for almost a week.  
  
His dark, unruly hair was limp, his green eyes dull. He avoided Scorpius’ eyes in class and avoided Scorpius himself everywhere else.   
  
Scorpius knew, just knew that it was only a matter of time before the professor confessed everything to the headmistress and offered his resignation. He couldn’t stand the idea of having slept with a student. Perhaps he just couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping with a Malfoy. Or maybe he just couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping with Scorpius. Scorpius didn’t know, and Harry Potter wasn’t telling.  
  
“And that’s chapter twelve,” the man said hoarsely. “Any questions?”  
  
Scorpius’ hand shot into the air.   
  
The professor swallowed hard, but refused to meet Scorpius’ eyes. “It’s difficult material, but I think chapter eight was harder in some ways,” Harry said.  
  
Scorpius’ arm stayed in the air.  
  
“I’ll expect you all to have read the next chapter before tomorrow,” Harry added.  
  
Scorpius’ arm was beginning to ache.  
  
Harry ignored him. “Class dismissed,” the man said.  
  
The rest of the class streamed out of the room around Scorpius. Albus Severus looked distinctly smug.   
  
Harry Potter turned his back and erased the chalkboard, meticulously scrawling out the next lesson, frowning in concentration and looking uncomfortable.  
  
Scorpius sat there for a full five minutes, hand stubbornly in the air, eyes stinging.  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
It was the last day of term.  
  
It was the last chance Scorpius would get.   
  
He waited outside Harry Potter’s chambers, his chest growing cold. Maybe the professor wouldn’t even come out. He was refusing to answer his door, at any rate. Scorpius kept replaying _that night_ in his mind, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. But there hadn’t been anything. There hadn’t been _anything._  
  
Scorpius waited patiently. That’s what Slytherins did, he told himself. Like a spider in a web or a hunter in a forest, they waited and pounced. He’d have to come out _sometime._ Of course, the professor didn’t necessarily have to come out before Scorpius was supposed to leave, a thought which depressed Scorpius greatly.  
  
Albus Severus strutted up, smiling a horrible, self-confident smile. “He doesn’t even want to see you,” Albus Severus announced.  
  
Scorpius just looked at him, something unpleasant swirling in his stomach.  
  
They stared at each other for a long moment. “All right, then,” Al said finally. He knocked hard on the door. “Dad! It’s me!” he shouted. “Open up, I need to tell you something.”  
  
Slowly the door swung back. Harry looked from one of them to the other. “Oh,” he murmured.  
  
“You know Scorpius,” Albus Severus said relentlessly. “So do I. He’s my _boyfriend_ ,” he added. “Like, you know, a lover?”  
  
The professor took a step back as though someone had punched him in the stomach, and Al stepped into the room after him. Scorpius followed, not very enthusiastically. “I didn’t know,” Harry croaked.   
  
“He is,” Albus Severus said. “Been for years. We’ve slept together.”  
  
Scorpius looked at his shoes.  
  
“I see,” Harry said. He looked from Albus Severus to Scorpius and back again. “I wish you’d told me this sooner,” he added dryly.   
  
Albus Severus put an arm around Scorpius. It felt heavy and strange. Albus Severus smiled broadly, smug triumph glinting in his eyes.  
  
“I’m . . . glad,” Harry said.  
  
“Are you?” Scorpius asked, the words hollow.  
  
Harry opened and shut his mouth. “I wish I could be,” he confessed. “I want you to be happy,” he added sadly. “You’re beautiful, d’you know that?” he breathed, sounding as earnest as anything Scorpius had ever heard.   
  
Wordlessly, Scorpius shook his head.  
  
“You are. You’re lovely. Scorpius Malfoy, with his long, lovely neck, big, green-gold eyes, sugar skin and silken hair, just as docile as a lamb. Who would have dreamed it?” Harry smiled a self-mocking smile.  
  
Albus Severus’ arm tightened possessively around Scorpius’ shoulders and Harry’s mouth became pinched.   
  
“I do want you to be happy,” he grated.   
  
“He’s _mine_ ,” Albus Severus gloated.  
  
Harry’s eyes shut tightly and he turned his face away.  
  
Scorpius teetered there between the two Potters for what seemed an eternity. “No,” he whispered, pushing Albus Severus’ arm away.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m not. Yours, I mean,” Scorpius said. “I thought I was. Maybe I used to be. But you didn’t—you didn’t _value_ me,” he added, voice climbing in stress. “You wouldn’t tell anyone about me. Not even your own father.”  
  
“What was I supposed to say?”  
  
“That you _loved me!”_ Scorpius yelled. “But you _didn’t!_ You _never!_ You were _ashamed_ of me!”  
  
Albus Severus turned red. “I never said that.”  
  
“You didn’t have to! You showed it to me— _every single day!”_  
  
“Scorpius—” Professor Potter put his hand on Scorpius’ shoulder, soothing, a false promise of security.  
  
Scorpius whirled. “And you’re no better!” he screamed. “You just wanted a cheap shag— _just like your son_ —and when you were done with me you were _just as bad!”_  
  
Harry leaned back as though Scorpius had spit in his face. “I was ashamed of _myself._ I never meant this to happen,” he protested. “But you’re so young . . . ”  
  
“So what? Does that make me a brick, with no feelings? Does being young make it so I don’t mind when you purposely ignore me in front of other people?”  
  
Harry turned red as well. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. All I could think of was what a bastard I was for taking advantage. All I could think of was losing my job.”  
  
Scorpius swept Harry’s hand off his shoulder as well. “I think that proves it, then. _All_ Potters are cowards,” he stated coldly.  
  
They both gawped at him, but he was already going through the door at a dead run.  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
Scorpius rinsed his face with cold water, but his eyes were still puffy and looked like they had bruises underneath. He scowled at himself in the bathroom mirror. “Way to muck everything up,” he said under his breath.  
  
There was a tap on the bathroom door. “There’s someone here for you,” Blakely said.   
  
Looking round, Scorpius saw Albus Severus in the middle of the dorm, hands thrust deep into his pockets, his expression unbecomingly sulky.  
  
“Oh,” said Scorpius.  
  
“The others are out,” Blakely said. “I’ll just leave you two alone, shall I?” He edged around Albus Severus, who gave him a nasty look, and hurriedly shut the door behind him.  
  
“What do _you_ want?”  
  
Albus Severus’ face twisted even more, and it took a moment for Scorpius to realise he wasn’t actually angry; he looked sort of sad. “I thought it was just to make me jealous,” Al said.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
They both looked at their feet.   
  
“Why?”  
  
“Well, it _was_ just to make you jealous, at least at first,” Scorpius admitted. “Because you wouldn’t tell anyone.” They’d had the argument so many times; Scorpius didn’t want to rehash it again. “I was tired of being forgotten so easily. I got sick of how you wouldn’t look at me during the day or spend more than a few minutes on a quick wank or a rough shag. I was tired of it.”  
  
“And then?”  
  
“And then Levina . . .” Scorpius said. He cleared his throat. “I really wanted to get back at you.”  
  
“I was getting back at _you,_ ” Albus Severus said resentfully, but without any heat. “You were flirting with my dad.”  
  
“Yeah.” Scorpius sat on the edge of his bed.   
  
Albus Severus sat down on the bed across from him. “So what happens now?”  
  
“Nothing. I’m not doing this anymore,” Scorpius said quietly.   
  
“Doing what?”  
  
Scorpius gestured to indicate both of them. “This. Us. I’m tired,” he repeated.  
  
Albus Severus sighed, rubbing his face. “Yeah. I reckon I’m sort of tired, too. This fighting and shagging and stuff—it really takes a lot of energy,” he added, sounding listless.   
  
Scorpius nodded. “Are you angry with me?”  
  
“I don’t know. You?”  
  
With a quasi-shrug, Scorpius made a face. “I’m too tired for that, too.”  
  
Albus Severus sighed again. “My _dad_ , huh? Seriously?”  
  
Scorpius felt his face heat. “He’s really nice,” he said throatily.   
  
Albus Severus stared at him for a long time. “It won’t last,” he predicted finally, getting to his feet.  
  
“It may not,” Scorpius conceded.   
  
Shaking his head, Albus Severus walked away. It was the first time he’d ever visited the Slytherin dorms. A month or so ago, the idea of Al coming to visit him would have heated Scorpius to the soles of his feet, but now he felt curiously indifferent. “Take care,” Al said quietly.  
  
“You, too.”  
  


oOoOoOo

  
  
“Hey.”   
  
The professor looked up, startled. He carefully set aside his cup of tea. “How did you get in?”  
  
Scorpius shrugged. “Slytherin,” he said with a devious smile.  
  
“I thought you’d be packing.”  
  
“All packed.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Weren’t you even going to say goodbye?” Scorpius hated how needy he sounded.  
  
“Yes. At the train station,” Harry answered. “I thought it would be better that way.”  
  
“How?”  
  
The man pinked. “Less tempting,” he admitted.   
  
Scorpius laughed lightly. “What, were you afraid you’d be overcome, throw me against the wall and have your way with me?”  
  
The pink grew brighter, more expansive, taking over the professor’s ears and rushing down his neck. “It’s entirely possible,” Harry said. He shook his head. “I’m so sorry about everything. And I had no idea about—about Al. I want the two of you to be happy,” he added. “I’ll support you. I want both of you to feel free to be with whomever you love.”  
  
Blinking in surprise, Scorpius realised Albus Severus hadn’t yet spoken to his father. Well, that was nothing new. “We are happy. We just aren’t together,” Scorpius said.   
  
Harry straightened. “Oh.”  
  
“Did you mean it, though?”  
  
“Which bit?”  
  
“That you wanted me to feel free to be with the person I love.”  
  
Harry seemed to reflect on that, growing broody. “I’d do my best. Even if I didn’t especially like the bloke you chose.”  
  
Scorpius pushed the teacup further away and plunked himself down on Harry’s lap. “It might be easier than you think,” he said.   
  
The professor leaned away from the intent on Scorpius’ lips. “I thought you were seeing Al,” he said. “What happened? Did you have a fight because of me?”  
  
Slowly, Scorpius shook his head. “No. We had a fight because of us. We had . . . _multiple_ fights because of us. It was practically all we did.” He looked at Harry, but he could see too much of Albus Severus in the man’s face and had to glance away a moment. That was going to take some getting used to. “I liked being with him,” he added hesitantly. “Sort of. And we’d been together—again, sort of—since all the way back in third year.”  
  
“Really? I—never even imagined.”  
  
With a bitter smile, Scorpius shrugged. “He never wanted anyone to know. Not even then. At first it was just because I was a boy, but the more James said things about my house, it became more because I was a boy _and_ a Slytherin _and_ his family wouldn’t like it.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Harry said.  
  
“It wasn’t your fault. Even if you were an absolutely stellar parent, you couldn’t raise him in a vacuum. The world hates Slytherins. We know it.”  
  
Harry frowned. “I’m still sorry.”  
  
“It’s all right. It was—it was really exciting. He burned, and I liked that. We’d have these big epic fights in front of other people, and later I’d be walking alone, oblivious, and then suddenly he’d be there, pulling me into a broom shed and we’d have our hands down each other’s pants and—sorry,” he said, noticing the professor looked pained. “But it was good. The sex bits, those were always good. He was like—he was like _fire_ , you know? But I got a bit sick of never being able to hold onto him for long for fear of getting burnt.”  
  
“I think I can understand that,” Harry said slowly.   
  
Scorpius kissed him.  
  
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Harry asked. “He’s younger than I am, and he’s got more energy.” The man made a face. “A lot more energy,” he added ruefully.  
  
Scorpius smiled crookedly. “But—on the whole—I think you’re a better catch,” he said in a soft voice. “I put up with him because I didn’t know it could be different, and because he was—you know—very good.”  
  
Harry’s eyes narrowed a little. “Good, was he?”  
  
“Well, yes, he—” Scorpius broke off as the man cupped his chin, turning Scorpius’ head to nip his ear.   
  
“But I’m better,” the man growled softly.  
  
Scorpius felt warm lips trail down his neck. “You _are_ better,” he admitted. “You made me feel like I was—like I was the centre of the universe, not just a quick shag. And it—and you—took your time,” he mumbled, his face hot. “With Al it was always over so _fast_ , you know?”  
  
Harry urged Scorpius to face him and the boy shifted, straddling the professor’s lap. “You’re worth taking the time,” Harry said. “And you are the centre of the universe. I like that about you.”  
  
Scorpius fluttered his eyelashes.   
  
“And that, too,” Harry added, voice thick with amusement. “Flirting shamelessly. You’re perfect. No wonder Malfoys are all spoiled. You _make_ people want to spoil you. You make them want to gather you up and wrap you in silks and laces and pet you and pamper you and strive to meet your every waking need. You’re _irresistible._ ”  
  
Laughing, Scorpius said doubtfully, “I think maybe that’s just you.” Then his smile widened. “I wouldn’t mind even if it _was_ just you,” he whispered.   
  
Harry smiled too. “So you’ll settle for just me?”  
  
Scorpius shivered with delight as he felt the man’s prick twitch against his own. “I think I could make do with just you,” he purred.  
  
The professor gave a soft sigh as Scorpius thrust lightly, beginning to rut against him. Then he stilled Scorpius’ hips with a strong hand on his hip. “I’m sure Albus Severus will be incandescent with rage,” he warned grimly.   
  
“Not at all,” Scorpius assured him. “He practically gave his approval,” he added, thinking that if you stretched the phrase ‘take care’ to its absolute limits, it was sort of true.  
  
“Really?” Harry said, astonished.   
  
Scorpius smiled and then pulled the man down for a long kiss. “Sure,” he said. “Besides, Albus Severus is going to be the easy relative.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Scorpius’ smile broadened. “Wait until we tell my _father,_ ” he said with wicked glee.


End file.
